


The View From Here

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Canadian Idol RPF, Canadian Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Guitars, Handlers, Inspired by Music, M/M, Musicians, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Present Tense, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, managers, written in 2004
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There's not exactly a plot going on- none that I can find, anyways. It's introspectives and events strung together with a common theme running thru. Just something to keep in mind. Oh, and if I got Jason's dialect wrong, may lestat_manson (as I was using their Jason fic for reference) whap me with a live trout ^_^</p>
    </blockquote>





	The View From Here

**Author's Note:**

> There's not exactly a plot going on- none that I can find, anyways. It's introspectives and events strung together with a common theme running thru. Just something to keep in mind. Oh, and if I got Jason's dialect wrong, may lestat_manson (as I was using their Jason fic for reference) whap me with a live trout ^_^

It's a sound Josh has become familiar with in such a short time. He can hear it just fine from where he stands, backstage so he's not in the way of things. It's the sound of the crowd calling out for the pride of Newfoundland, Jason Greeley.

Jason has become one of those rare rock stars who appeal to almost everyone- the girls who swoon over his maturity, the women who eagerly soak up any radiated sexual energy, the fellas who consider him the crowned king man's man among men's men, and everyone in between.

The success he's found is incredible- and it has so much to do with how he stands out from the average rock star.

Some musicians come out roarin' and smokin' and trying to blow the house down, but not Jason. He comes out like he knows he's good. And he's not kidding around.

And- if you got ears- you'll pick up on what he's doing.

And- if you don't have ears- why should he waste his time trying to talk to you?

And what he's doing- the songs he sings and the way he's singing them- is different from the average rock star.

Instead of thinking of the song so much, you think more about the singer and the way he's singing it. And since the singer happens to be Jason Greeley, what you get is amazing.

There's so much energy, but he does more than put it out- he plays with it, controlling it like a lion on a leash.

And you can't take your eyes off him, don't dare not listen for even one second, afraid you'll miss something that happens once and never again.

Because Jason doesn't bowl you over.

He _blows you away._

He's incredible, along with the songs he writes. They're not about Happiness. They're not about Sadness. They're all mixed up together, little bits of happiness in great big chunks of sadness, like chocolate chips in cardboard cookies.

The songs Jason writes celebrate the little bits of Happiness. Or they complain about how hard they are to come by. Or mourn over how much you pay for the few you get.

His songs make up a world of their own, a dark but possible world where Jason Greeley is king and the crowd is merely his subjects, cheering him in rhythm and showering him with their love.

***

He's finishing his set now with the cover that made him famous- "Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting." Even from where he is backstage, Josh can hear the crowd clapping and chanting along. The energy is just incredible.

Josh shakes his head, knowing he could never be like that, and looks around for the cooler. As per the conditions laid out, Jason's only allowed one beer off and, and only after performances or interviews, to prevent...future embarrassments.

Eventually the whole band is backstage, laughing and talking amongst themselves as usual. Like Jason, they're the type of fellas you'd see kicking back a cold one with their pals at the bar, the men's men who take no guff from anyone. And they're the type of fellas who make Josh feel nervous to be around, and he tries to be as inconspicuous as possible.

All in all, tonight has been another successful show. There hasn't been any of the in-fighting and power clashes that are bound to occur in cases of lead-singer-popularity. Josh only has to look around to see that everything's normal.

There's just one thing missing from the scene. "Jason, where's your jacket?"

"Jacket?" He raises an eyebrow like he doesn't know what Josh is talking about.

"Jacket! New one! Red pleather! The one I paid for! The one you were just wearing! Where is it?!"

Jason guffaws. "Oh, that. Threw it in the crowd and some gal caught it. She'd be cute if she weren't jailbait," he muses and reaches for a beer.

Josh suddenly wants to tear his hair out. "Jason! That cost me three thousand dollars!"

"So? Get another one," he sneers.

***

If it's one thing Jason Greeley has in common with most rock stars, it's a massive ego.

If it's one thing the business has taught Josh in such a short period of time, it's that what you see on the outside is not what you get on the inside with most artists.

Jason in particular.

Jason, he's learned, isn't some demi-god, a perfectly chiseled being that can not only wield a guitar like no one's business, but is nothing less than an angel-

Ha.

Shyeah right.

But there's no way Josh could point this out, to Jason or anybody.

People would say he's incredibly lucky- if they ever noticed him.

Which they don't. He's nobody, just the hot guy's manager.

Manager-in-training, at least. He considers himself fortunate to be in the position he's in, getting a job at the label through hard work and a couple lucky connections. For all intents and purposes, Werner was the man in charge, letting Josh see what the business was like by giving him a chance to control the most popular rocker around...

_"See, there's some things you gotta know about Jason," Zack says when he offers Josh the assignment. He leans over his side of the desk, all seriousness, and folds his hands. "Like, I love him. We all love him around here, dude. He's the biggest seller we've had in five years, very important to us; you get what I'm saying?"_

_Josh only nods dumbly and folds his hands as well. 'Don't screw up and put him in danger. Check-'_

_"But we have a little problem with him." Zack leans back. "Trouble is nobody here's willing to point it out 'cause they're scared to. He wouldn't even listen to me if I mentioned it. Fame's given him an attitude like you wouldn't believe. Totally gone to his head, dude. That has us a little worried about him."_

_Josh freezes at this part. "Worried?" he meekly asks._

_"Typical rock'n'roll horror stories. Fistfights, drugs, debaucheries, quality of work going down- other labels tolerate it, but we don't. There's no way in hell I'm letting my best act fall victim to all that." One more lean over the desk and Zack finishes, "This is where you come in, dude. You're really down-to-earth yourself, and I admire that. We need someone like you to keep Jason in check. He can act any way he wants on stage, the crowd just eats that up, but we need him the same fella offstage that he used to be. It's a big responsibility, and I trust you with that."_

Then there'd come the day he met Jason face-to-face...

_Zack and Josh enter the recording booth, where Jason is slumped in a chair and flirting with a giggly soundcheck girl. Leather jacket, bleach-splattered jeans, logoed shirt, tinted sunglasses- he has the look covered._

_"Greeley," Zack intones and the rocker stands to attention and comes over. "There's someone I'd like you to meet," he continues and makes a grand sweeping motion towards Josh. "Joshua Seller here's gonna be your...co-manager of sorts. Filling in wherever I can't, you dig?"_

_And as Josh extends a hand to shake, it takes every ounce of willpower not to have his knees shake too. 'This is really him, it really- I-'_

_"H-hi," he stammers._

_His fate is sealed by Jason lowering his sunglasses as he offers a hand._

_'His eyes! They're even brighter than on TV, that's not possible-'_

_"Hey there."_

_That's all it takes._

It's been a struggle for Josh since then- trying to do his job, working for respect, and trying to convince himself he doesn't feel anything for Jason.

'It's not love! I'm only starstruck. This is how stars are supposed to make you feel. That's their job, and I have to do mine. I. Am not. In love.'

He. Does not. Believe himself.

Josh understands all too well the problems Zack said Jason was having. An attitude like you wouldn't believe indeed. Whether it's being rude to a stagehand or reporter, making some outrageous backstage demand, unwanted slap and tickle with almost every passing woman, snarking at someone behind their backs ('Could he be cursing me?' Josh sometimes thinks, 'He just might, he just might.')-

No, Jason isn't perfect at all. Just pitifully, shamefully human.

After the first major blow-up, when Josh had realized what Zack said was true, he'd wondered so much. 'How can Jason write and play such wonderful music and be such a jerk in person? How can any regular person not pick up on this? You think the crowd would catch on!'

_Oh, no,_ some little voice had responded in Josh's head. _There's no way they'll catch on. It's different when Jason's on stage or on TV. He knows what the crowd wants and he gives it to them. Fame has told him this. He's a master manipulator, so much he can even make the public forgive him when he does something stupid. He has them all fooled. The only thing is, you're not going to let him fool you, understand? You are not going to be fooled._

'Well then, there you go,' Josh thinks, 'no good feeling so attached to him. Even if he did swing that way- which he _doesn't_, he wouldn't wanna be with you. You're just too different.'

***

Another day at the label, another set of dollars hopefully being put to good use. Some executive from somewhere will be meeting up with Jason in an hour or so to discuss a possible soundtrack deal, so it's currently Josh's responsibility to make sure the band stays around the premises. Even if he can't see them now, he knows where they are and he's satisfied with that.

The way he's feeling right now, he's not even sure if he _wants_ to see Jason.

He can hear them in the other room, tuning instruments and occasionally going wild with some new riff, much to the laughter and approval of everyone else. Chuck Berry's "Maybellene" even comes whip-sawing out of Jason's guitar-

Struttin' around, proud and uppity, like she owns the place. And what's this white trash doing here anyway? Running down her fine neighborhood!

Josh only whispers, "If I could be like that..." and reaches for his guitar case.

His rosewood and ebony guitar is not new, oh, far from it. Josh feels a new one would've broken the bank at the times. Besides, he doesn't really need one.

He prefers the carefully worn feel of the one he has under his hands. It's something with history, substance. It's been there. When a note wavers from its nylon strings, happy or sad, you can feel it. You can believe it.

The man who sold the guitar to Josh called it Ella, and it fits so beautifully the young man hasn't considered changing it. It's a name with class and personality, a name that fits.

Josh fiddles with the E string and gives a slow, full strum. Ella's familiar notes float up into the air. You can hear them just hanging there. He closes his eyes and retreats into his private dream, the one he's had since youth, when he'd listen to his father's old folk records and be swept away into another world.

It's a scene he plays in his head over and over- a grand theater packed to the brim, and on the stage, sitting on a stool, in a lone blue-white spotlight, is Josh, with only a small band behind him, evoking the days of classic folk stars like Gordon Lightfoot or Neil Young.

Ella's gently cradled in his hands, her rosewood and ebony dazzling in the spotlight like he dazzles the crowd with his songs, words and music so ripe with feelings no one goes away untouched. Unlike Jason, whose presence is all flash and sparkle and razzmatazz, Josh prefers simplicity, letting the music do the talking. That's what his dream of stardom means, feeling he's lending his eyes so they can see what he sees and feel what he feels.

With his eyes open, however, Josh scoffs at his dream. There's no market for folk nowadays, unless you live in the right area, or you're an established artist- and he's neither of those. He's has been told he has a decent voice, and he's learned to take that as a compliment- and yet his dream of stardom is one looking silly, even with his initial plans to get a job in the business so he could work his way up.

But it's so different when he closes his eyes.

His fingers find the right places and the slowly begin strumming the melody he's been working on. He could just sell his songs to someone, but that's an open-eyes thought. Right now it's only him, the music, the spotlight, and the crowd.

_From here things look different  
Here we don't see the same  
It seems my mind wanders  
And I don't know my way_

It's his only way of escaping the sad truth. He doesn't belong in Jason's world in the first place.

_I'm looking to find purpose  
I'm looking for a change  
But purpose comes from passion  
And I don't see that face_

He shouldn't be calling shots or arranging bookings or signing important papers or whatnot. He's just a square peg trying to fit into the round holes like Jason so easily can. He's a goddamn rock star!

_Can I stand alone  
With nobody beside me  
And still leave your mark on the world  
Can I sing a song  
And pray the world is listening  
And change who we've come to be  
I'm looking past the view from here_

He just figures that people don't like him and don't want to.

_It's hard to dream simple  
So much I long to be  
But where dreams meet the real life  
It's all I wait to see_

A little respect, a little recognition- even one word of gratitude from Jason could be all he's needed. He knows that day may never come, but Josh still waits for it, like he's waited for everything else in his life.

_It's songs I haven't sung yet  
It's chords I haven't played  
It's the song that I am singing  
That brings a smile to my face_

Ella's notes fade away and Josh slowly opens his eyes, wanting the feeling to last as long as possible, the feeling only music can give him.

He thinks the clapping he hears is all in his mind.

No, not totally.

"Josh," the voice behind him is much too familiar.

He turns to see Jason in the doorway, hands applauding, mouth smiling (not his cocky "I'm great and I know it" grin, but an honest-to-goodness smile), and was there something shining in his eyes?

It barely takes two seconds for Josh to run through every possibility about that in his mind. He feels like his face is on fire, even his mouth is dry as he tries to speak. "How...how much of that did-"

"The whole thing man," Jason steps further into the room. The ambience around him is one the young man has never associated with him before. Usually he gives off a cold, gem-like sparkle, but this time...this time it's a warm, cozy glow, the kind that radiates from your dearest friend. ('But he can't be that at all, right?')

Josh only looks up enough to peek at Jason's smiling face, eyes lingering along the line of his jaw; the kind of jaw God reserves for marine sergeants and football heroes. A man born with a jaw like that can absorb all the uppercuts life could dish out, every single blow, without ever once going down.

Josh wonders why he thinks that- then he remembers.

"Ya wrote that one? I've never heard it before."

"Uh, yeah." Josh's heart sinks. 'Here comes the catch,' he thinks. 'He wants to buy it from me. I should've known it was too good to be true. Might as well take what he offers, it's not like I could ever-'

"'Cause that was great. Heck, I had no clue ya even sang."

Josh looks up again. 'He- meant that. He honestly, really meant that. Somebody pinch me-'

"Mind if I try her out?"

"Oh-" Josh snaps out of his thoughts long enough- "uh, sure."

Jason lifts the guitar out of Josh's hands and begins playing it, strumming and ambling around the room like a man of his constitution does, going off into some old blues riff.

It's a mellow, gentler side of Jason the young man hasn't seen offstage in- ages, practically, and it takes so much of his power not to go to pieces right there in the room while he watches Jason play.

'This is exactly what he does to the crowd every night on stage, he makes them go crazy- but he's not doing it in the same way!'

"This girl's real sturdy," Jason interrupts his thoughts, still strumming and ambling. "You've been playin' long?"

"Long time," the young man says, hoping Jason doesn't notice the blisters.

'He's not being all stuck-up!'

"Bet ya really wanted to be in this business, huh?"

Josh blushes and bites his lip; his secrets and dreams are not easily revealed...but he goes, "Yeah," anyway.

'He actually cares what someone else is doing! It's not all about him!'

"No tellin' how far ya could go, man." He ends the blues riff and starts on a Dylan tune.

"Really?" Josh is taken aback. It's just one surprise after another-

'This is not the Jason we all know. What's going on?'

"Anyway," he says, finishing the verse and striding back towards Josh. "Anyway, it sure is great workin' with someone who really cares."

'He knows!'

"Someone who cares enough to throw himself into it, heart and soul."

He's stopped the strumming and ambling and is standing in front of Josh.

Thisclose.

"Um-" 'Snap out of it, Josh, snap out!' "Uh...thanks," he finally says and takes Ella back from Jason's hands.

"It's been a while since I met someone like that," the older man says, "before everythin' around me changed."

'You mean before you changed...for crying out loud, Josh, don't you dare say that! Bite your tongue!'

"Think ya wanna jam together sometime? Y'know," Jason drops his voice, "I could use another opener," and gives a conspiratorial wink.

Josh isn't quite sure how to read that, so he blushes again and fumbles with putting Ella back in her case. "Uh- sure, I...guess."

"You're a good kid...and a great manager." Jason ruffles Josh's curls in a brotherly manner. "Kinda reminds me of how I used to be."

There's something so wistful in that voice that the young man looks up again.

The wistfulness is matched in Jason's eyes, but the smile is still warm and friendly, and the cozy ambience is still the same.

They say you can see a person's soul in their eyes. Josh isn't sure if he's seeing that, but something's there. The eyes of a world-weary old soul whose done his best to scratch and claw to where he is, and who so desperately wants to stay where he is and is doing the best he can, and is afraid it could all be over tomorrow.

And Josh so desperately wants to say something at that moment- 'Jason, we need to talk' or 'Jason, what's happened to you?' or 'Jason, I still think you're a good person even if you've said and done some things I should really hate you for but I don't wanna hate you even if you'd never feel the way I feel-'

But he says nothing.

"Ah, I really shouldn't've interrupted you, man. I'll just leave you be," Jason eventually says and turns to the door. He's almost out of the room when Josh finds himself able to strangle out at least one word he wants to.

"Jason?"

The older man stops and turns, not posing in the doorway as usual, but with a raised eyebrow and curious expression. "Yeah?"

It happens so fast the young man is almost unaware of his actions until the last second.

He sets Ella on the floor.

Gets off his chair.

Strides over to Jason.

Opens his arms.

And takes him in.

Enough to close the distance separating them.

For once in his life, Josh isn't worried about the other man's reaction. There's no voice in his head telling him it can never be, that Jason's too stuck-up and off in his own world, and that Josh will just remain in the shadows. All he's thinking about is that at least he reached out, and for one brief moment- a little bit of the old Jason Greeley shone through.

"Hmm." The older man rests a hand on Josh's shoulder, the other on top of his head, and says again wistfully, "You're great, Josh."

He doesn't have to look up to know Jason's smiling.


End file.
